Bitter
by Lalalalaxx
Summary: The sad part is, I had always loved her. Always. Never, in all these years, had that changed. Her memory was etched deep into my mind, and even deeper in my heart.


**AN: Gosh, I'm sorry fans of my _Falling Apart_ series. This stuff just...WON'T get out of my head. Please bear with me; I _am_ writing the fifth chapter...it's just going slow.**

**_Disclaimer_: If I were J.K. Rowling, Severus would NOT have died. Ever. Nor would have Hedwig. I mean, seriously? Why kill the effing OWL? What did poor Hedwig ever do to deserve being _Adva_--er, well, nevermind. Just read.**

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**Bitter.**

The sad part is, I had always loved her. Always.

Never, in all these years, had that changed. Her memory was etched deep into my mind, and even deeper in my heart. I have tried many times to rid myself of her, to move on. I had brief encounters with other women, but none of them could compare to her. No matter how hard I tried, Lily Evans haunted my life, even from the grave.

Of course, she had haunted my life while she was living, as well. Her kindness, her generous nature. I had sucked it all in from the moment I became friends with the redhead. My father had been a drunk, and my mother was a weak creature. She could barely survive her life, let alone help her son. So when Lily Evans came around, kind and gentle, I was entranced by her. Awed.

I don't know why I never told her how I felt about her. Maybe, somewhere deep inside, I knew that we would go down two different roads, in the end. Maybe I was in denial. Most likely, however, I was just a coward. A teenage boy too afraid to tell his childhood friend that he was hopelessly in love with her.

I often wonder when my love for the Muggle girl started. It couldn't have been when I first saw her, for I was too interested in my own wants to be in love. If I had to choose a moment, it would be the moment where she asked me if being born a Muggle made a difference in the wizarding world.

And I told her it didn't make any difference at all.

Yes, that was probably it. The thought made me chuckle now, how little Lily had looked so relieved, just by words. _My_ words. She was completely trusting in me, never doubting my reassurences for a moment. It was like that in the begining. If only it could have lasted.

But I was arrogant. When Lily was sorted into Gryffindor, and I into Slytherin, I should have known that it would, more then likely, come to an end. I should have worked harder to maintain that friendship. I should have gotten to know _her_ friends, instead of feeling abandoned. Maybe then I wouldn't have gone to Avery, or Mulciber. Their ideas had enticed me, I'll admit it. Dark magic. Muggles, forced into servitude.

My thoughts had gone first to my Muggle--no, my _Mudblood_--father. I remembered him, sitting on the couch, downing shot after shot of whiskey. I remembered him, as he hit my mother. I always wondered why she never fought back. She was a _witch_, for bloody sake. She could have hexed him into oblivion. But she never did; she allowed herself to be hit by that man, over and over, until her skin bruised and her face bled.

I thought that I hated Muggles. All of them. It was so much easier for me to group them all into one large, barbaric group. I started to branch them off as a completely different species in my mind, only to remember her.

Lily Evans, a Muggle-born witch. The smartest girl I had ever met. The most beautiful, caring, and gentle soul I had ever seen. Even in a world full of the terrors and darkness of Voldemort, she remained pure. Untainted.

I thought of her as an oddity. Muggles were barbaric, but she was the _one_ exception.

That was my mistake. Even though I had seperated her in my mind, prejudices had spit from my mouth that one embarrassing, god-awful day that my friendship with Lily Evans had ended, bitter and cold.

When she walked away that night, my heart seemed to freeze over. She had cut herself out of my life completely, and had also took my ability to feel with her. The only thing I ever felt from that point on was fierce emotions, all revolving around her. When she finally gave into James Potter, I was broken. I hadn't spoken to her in two years, but my feelings hadn't changed.

I hated James Potter with a burning hate that I had never felt for anyone else before. It is a hate that I still feel today. Not only was he my tormenter, but he was also better for Lily then I was. She would be happy with James, and safe. She would never be that way with me, even if a miracle had happend.

Which, of course, hadn't occured.

It's irony that I, indirectly, of course, was the cause of Lily Evans--Lily _Potter's_ death. It was my information that led Voldemort to her door. My information that had killed her.

For years, I had hated myself. I had always done so, probably starting when I was first able to be consiously aware of myself. But never had I hated myself more then the day I heard of Lily Potter's murder. I would have gladly switched places with her, in less then a heartbeat. Why was I still alive, and she gone? Lily was a better person then I had ever been, or ever could be. Why did someone so pure, so kind have to die? Why did the light that she brought to the world have to be exstinguished, while my darkness and evil was allowed to stay?

I ached for Lily. I ached for things I hadn't had in years. Her smell. Her touch, when she was comforting me. Her smile. Her laugh. Her _eyes_. Gods, I missed those eyes. It still brought tears to my eyes, when I thought of Lily Evan's lifeless eyes after Voldemort had killed her. Eyes that were once so bright, and filled with love, frozen in fear in death. It brought chest wracking sobs to me.

Of course, I hadn't ever seen them in person. It was merely an invention of my own mind, brought forth to punish myself.

I wanted to give up. I didn't see any point in living, with Lily Potter gone. But Dumbledore had brought up a point I could not refute.

I owed Lily Potter. I owed her for being my friend in childhood. For blessing me with her kindness, and warmth. I owed her, for bringing her death upon her.

I know this, and yet, as my eyes find her son on his first day at Hogwarts, I can't help but be filled with repulsion. He is an exact replica of his father. From a distance, I can see none of Lily in him. Nothing to remind me of her. Was this another punishment of mine? Sworn to protect Lily Evan's child, when he had no trace of her in him?

I was angry and bitter, until my first lesson with him. Only then did I see him up close. Only then did I see his eyes.

_Lily Evan's eyes._

I found that I couldn't hate him, as much as I disliked him. I could not find it in myself to hate him, even though he looked so throughly like his father, because he had the eyes I so wished to see.

Nor could I hate the girl that he soon became friends with. She reminded me of Lily as well. Muggleborn, brightest witch of her age. Still, I disliked her immediately. Oddly, it was because of the fact she reminded me of Lily that prevented me from liking her. I never did figure that one out.

However, I could hate his redhaired friend. Even though his hair color matched Lily's to a T, I had had his brothers in the same class as eachother.

Damnable twins.

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**AN: Okay, this made me bawl as I wrote it. So, I had to add that part at the end. ;D Gotta love Gred and Forge. Please, review! I'd greatly appreciate it. I hoped you liked it! If you did, you'd like my other story 'Addiction' as well. It's another angsty Snape one. Go check it out. :**

**-Tauphe**


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